


While I lay Dreaming

by makers_breath



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Boys' Love, Canon Gay Relationship, Depression, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, References to Depression, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 11:23:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13546335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makers_breath/pseuds/makers_breath
Summary: It's post Corypheus.The anchor is gone and his hand with it and Inquisitor Lucian Trevelyan is having a hard time coming to terms with it. Everyone else is getting on with their lives, re-building, forgetting, the breach a distant memory. For the Inquisitor however, peace and prosperity don't seem to suit him.





	1. The Inner Battle

The faint morning light streamed through the stained glass, it's glow creeping nearer to the Inquisitor's face as the dawn encroached; rousing weary eyed townsfolk from their beds in Skyhold below, the gleam of each candle in every window illuminating the murky first light.  
The Inquisitor stirred, fighting the nudge of consciousness that roused him awake. 'I was rather enjoying that dream.' He thought to himself before he gave a tired yawn, the noise echoing slightly against the walls of the large stone room and sat on the edge of the bed, the springs of the mattress giving a defiant grumble at the change in pressure. His eyes felt heavy, still weary with sleep, so he lifted his hand to rub the sand from them, except he didn't have one, in it's place a rather sad-looking stump.

He had forgotten again; his rather vivid dream about fierce battles with high dragons, Venatori spellcasters and questionable tactics had omitted the fact that he had recently lost the green, glowing anchor and the arm that was attached to it. His heart instantly sunk, the overwhelming feeling of sadness erupting within him that brought tears to his eyes, hastily wiping them away with his remaining hand.

Every morning started like this. It had been six weeks since they took his arm, six weeks of fake smiles and bogus facades; telling his closest friends he was alright. He wasn't, but after everything they had been through, he didn't want to worry them. Varric was back in Kirkwall taking on his duties as Viscount, most probably submerged in paperwork. It was expected that he would be far too busy to attend to a dejected companion, or so Lucian had himself believe.

Leliana, Cullen, Cassandra and Josephine were tying up the Inquisition's loose ends; not without first getting it approved by the Inquisitor of course, but he felt the sorrow in their eyes as they looked at him in meetings in the war room, making him feel like a burden. He had been to less and less meetings in the past few weeks, preferring to keep his own company in his quarters or to sneak off to the lower study, pouring over endless tomes of great battles in Inquisition history.

He gave his head a rough shake as though to rid the sleep from it and begrudgingly stood, making an attempt to get dressed. The pantalons were a little harder to get on with one hand; they just required a little more manoeuvring. His tunic, on the other hand, was another matter entirely. After half an hour of wrestling with, cursing at and almost ripping off the small metal fasteners: he gave up and went in search of a servant to assist him.

He was just at the ancient wooden door of his secret hideaway, having managed to slip past guards, guests and his advisors. He knew they would try and get him to do some easy task that would require him to collect a message or whatnot just to get him out of Skyhold like their previous attempts, so he does his best to avoid them. Leliana feigns ignorance to his ploy however, claiming she doesn't know where he goes day-to-day, but she realises that he's going through a difficult time and gives him his space to work it out. His sending crystal gleamed under his tunic, alerting him that Dorian was on the other side.

“Amatus?” He heard the familiar voice call out, making his heart soar with just one word.

“Dorian, I'm here.” He replied, closing the large wooden door of his secret study, the dull thud of the old timber echoing in the empty corridor outside, locking it in place as to not be disturbed.

“It's so good to hear your voice.” The mage said and gave a sigh of relief. “Oh, have I missed you so Lucian.”

“I've missed you too.” The Inquisitor replied, fighting a tear from spilling down his cheek.

He hadn't spoken to Dorian in weeks; the Magister having been tied up in Tevinter business. He was so driven to change the old ways that Lucian didn't want to get in his way or to distract him; he really was making progress.

“When I didn't hear from you, I thought you were upset with me.” Dorian stated.

A pang of guilt rang through the Inquisitor at the other's words. He wasn't upset, in that way, he just thought he would be too busy to speak with him, electing to wait until the mage contacted him.

“How could I be upset with such a charming, good looking _magister_ such as yourself?” He asked his love, emphasising the title which he knew Dorian liked in an attempt to get off the subject.

“I know it'd be difficult to be angry with such a perfect specimen like myself.” Dorian joked.

“Oh, but I try my best.” the blonde Inquisitor replied, a small, almost foreign chuckle escaping him.

Dorian laughed in reply before he cleared his throat.

“But truthfully, are you ok?” The mage asked him, his tone mixed with sincerity and concern.

His heart thundered against his chest in a panic, threatening to rip from him.

“I-I...” He stuttered, finding it hard to speak. He wanted to tell him he wasn't ok, wanted to tell Dorian to drop all his responsibilities and come to him to soothe the ache in his head and his heart, wanted him to alleviate all of his sorrows with a loving embrace and a tender kiss.  
He couldn't find the words to tell him a thing. He was speechless.

“I'm absolutely fine, Dorian.” He lied as he found the words, a fake jovial tone in his voice. “Please don't worry about me, you have enough on your plate.” He added.

He could almost hear Dorian's eyes rolling on the other side as he spoke.

“You're good at a vast majority of things, Amatus, especially the thing you do with your tongue that I quite enjoy. One thing you can't do however, is lie.” The raven haired mage stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

The Inquisitor's heart attempted to make a break for it again as it pounded within his chest, feeling it hard to take a breath as he stood their, panicking. He couldn't tell the love of his life to pack up his things and drop the important improvements he's making in the Tevinter judiciary system, something he cares deeply for, just to come and babysit an ex-Inquisitor who seemingly can't do anything for himself.

“You don't have to lie to me, Lucian.” Dorian reassured him, the tone of his voice softening, stilling the blonde's unruly emotions. “It's ok to not be ok, just say the word and I'll be there.” He added.

“I couldn't do that to you.” Lucian replied. “If you leave now, all that hard work you've done will unravel itself and you'll be back to square one.” He explained.

Dorian gave a disheartened sigh, knowing the Inquisitor was right. “Doesn't stop the fact that I feel extremely guilty for not being there. I miss you, Amatus.”

Lucian's eyes began welling up at Dorian's words, unable to stop the tears from falling, cascading down his cheeks and staining his face red.

“I miss you too.” He replied, the sorrow etched into every word and Dorian felt it.

A babble of many different voices erupted behind the mage, sounding busy.

“I can't believe I'm going to do this...” The Magister's voice slightly muffled from the noise.

“You're busy, I understand.” Lucian stated. “Go and save the world.” He told him, a genuine smile on his face, one of pride.

“I love you!” Dorian replied, his voice a little louder so that the blonde could hear over the rabble.

The Inquisitor brought the small, glowing crystal close to his lips. “I love you too.” He whispered before kissing the cool glass gently.

 

He didn't hear a reply if there was one. He simply moved to the archaic desk in the middle of the room, it's wood crumbling slightly with age as he gently took the crystal from his neck. He pulled the top drawer open, the wood giving a rebellious wail as it scraped against itself and placed the small glass necklace inside, shutting it away.

It was like Lucian was in a trance. He walked the vast corridor's of Skyhold deaf and blind to the world except hearing the soft clap of his boots against the flagstones with each step. Friends and strangers made attempts to speak to him, trying to rouse him from his daze, but he carried on walking.  
The air of the frostback mountains was cold and harsh on the east side of the balcony of his quarters. He felt the ice cold wind clip his skin as he stood, heard it's shriek in the sky as it whirled past his ears, saw his breath condense before him as he shivered in the raw air. Everything looked still, almost peaceful from up there and he could see the mountains stretch for miles, their vast peaks disappearing above the clouds, hiding from the world. He stepped on top of the balcony, looking directly down at the dark abyss below and unthinking, he jumped.


	2. The World Around Me Stills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I'm never going to leave you again, Lucian. Not in this world, nor in the next.”

While I Lay Dreaming,

The world around me stills,

The sorrows of my yesterday

grow dim and peace instills.

 

While I Lay Dreaming,

My soul is calm and sound,

The Demons lurking in my mind

With my wake will come unbound.

 

While I Lay Dreaming,

Your heart I surely miss,

Your tender eyes,

Your sweet chastise,

The distant sense of bliss.

 

 

 

The Rage Demons surrounded the party, their lava-like skin singeing the grass beneath them, filling the air with a burnt stench that lingered in their nostrils as they slithered towards them. They outnumbered the heroic combatants 2:1, who were fighting tooth and nail, putting their very essence into their blades and staffs with each swing, each thrust, each parry, each spell, all in an attempt to stay alive. The Inquisitor was in the middle of it all, letting loose an array of jabs, slashes and lunges with his great sword; the sheer size of the weapon intimidating to any foe. He was an advanced warrior, hardened in battle from the vast number of foes he'd taken down, this many rage demons shouldn't be as hard to smite as it currently was.

 

He stole a glance to one of his comrades, the Tevinter mage Dorian. He had blood spattered all over him, a weary look on his face as though he was close to his limit. With a deafening howl, he leaped towards the enemy in front of him, sinking his gleaming, blood-soaked blade right through it's bubbling torso. The demon dematerialised before him in a cloud of shimmering green flecks, the fade rift engulfing it's essence.

 

He immediately turned towards Dorian, sprinting as fast as his feet would carry him in the soggy, battle worn grass, his footsteps squelching in the mud. He raised his sword high above him, preparing himself for a heavy downward strike to hit the monster currently overwhelming the mage. He held his sword tighter in his grip, feeling the hardness of the cool metal through his gauntlets as he prepared to cleave.

 

Only the blow wouldn't connect, the enormous sword falling to the ground with a wet thud. He looked down at his left arm, the anchor which had given him the power to close a breach in the veil between worlds gone and half of his arm with it, his remaining arm too weak on its own to lift the cumbersome sword. He looked to Dorian who was lying on the soggy grass, a trickle of blood escaping his lips as his body lay there in a lifeless heap.

 

The Inquisitor sat bolt-upright on his bed, the beads of sweat that had formed on his brow glistening in the moonlight that trickled in through the window. He looked around him, gathering his bearings, seeing the familiar shapes of his belongings littered around his quarters at Skyhold. He breathed a small sigh of relief.

 

“I was wondering when you'd wake up, but I was very much enjoying watching you sleep.” A familiar voice said from the shadows.

 

“...Dorian?” Lucian whispered, unable to find his voice.

 

He was in disbelief. Dorian was meant to be miles away in Tevinter, not meandering across a country to Skyhold just to see him.

 

“You've had quite an... experience.” He told him as he moved onto the bed, taking the blonde's hand in his as he sat next to him.

 

Dorian studied his love in what little light the moon provided, the blue hue highlighting his more distinctive cheekbones. The Inquisitor hardly looked himself; he had lost so much weight in the past few weeks that his face looked gaunt and grey, dark shadows lingering under his eyes, nothing like the bright, healthy man that the Mage had left.

 

“Oh, Amatus.” Dorian simply said, heartache in his gaze as he looked at the Blonde.

 

“What are you doing here?” Lucian finally said, a confused frown on his brow.

 

The raven haired mage blinked a few times, looking back at the man before him just as confused.

 

“You mean to say that you don't remember?” He asked the Inquisitor.

 

The blonde shook his head, tiny tendrils of his too-long hair brushing against his nose as he did so. Dorian shifted closer to him, pulling him into a warm embrace as though unwilling to let him go, placing a tender kiss to the top of his head as the other settled, resting his head on Dorian's chest. Lucian could hear his heartbeat, the sound soothing and familiar as he unconsciously drew light patterns on the bare skin of the mage's arm with his thumb, just as he always had.

 

Dorian spoke to him, his voice calming and careful as he explained the events that transpired on the balcony ledge, holding him closer as though he was holding him from the edge.

 

“Leliana had followed you.” The mage explained. “If it wasn't for her quick reflexes, well...” He trailed off, pausing foe a second. “You've been out cold for a week.” He added.

 

The Inquisitor blinked, trying to take in all the information presented to him. He could hardly believe himself that he could do such a thing like that, he couldn't begin to fathom what that would do to Dorian.

 

“I'm sorry...” Was all he could manage to say.

 

“Please don't be sorry, Amatus.” His love replied. “You don't have anything to be sorry about. If anything, I should be the one apologising. I left you...” He added, his voice breaking off.

 

Lucian's hand moved slowly to cup Dorian's cheek, brushing his perfectly styled moustache with the tip of his thumb, feeling the smooth skin of his face as though familiarising himself with it once again before pulling him into a slow, loving kiss. It had been too long since he had last felt his soft lips on his, heard the slight, sharp intake of breath Dorian always took with their first kiss, felt the small shudder as he took his breath away.

 

Here in Dorian's embrace; he was whole. He could already feel the clouds begin to part in his foggy mind, the misery dissipating, if however slightly. He could begin to heal the wounds that couldn't be seen, the invisible damage that corrodes with neglect.

 

He opened his eyes and stole a glance upwards, the mage smiling candidly down at him.

 

“I'm never going to leave you again, Lucian. Not in this world, nor in the next.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this work and I am truly sorry again for the feels.  
> This is the first time in literal years that I've actually sat down and invested time and effort into writing, something that I should probably do more of (it would definitely improve my writing skills).  
> Reading this back, it feels like quite a short chapter, but I didn't want to add too much and make it boring.  
> You're kudos, comments and general reading are very much appreciated and I thank you again for your time.
> 
> ~Wyn

**Author's Note:**

> If you're here, thank you so much for reading my first chapter in such a long while!  
> I had been mulling this idea for a plot over and over again in my head and just thought: stuff it, I'm writing this if it kills me. Well, not kill me, but with ADHD boredom can feel like dying a little.  
> I'm sorry for the feels, but I promise it will get better. Poor Inky.  
> ~Wyn


End file.
